James Riley - Neghborly Poems and Dialect Sketches

Some sings of the lilly, and daisy, and rose,
And the pansies and pinks that the Summertime throws
In the green grassy lap of the medder that lays
Blinkin' up at the skyes through the sunshiney days;
But what is the lilly and all of the rest
Of the flowers, to a man with a hart in his brest
That was dipped brimmin' full of the honey and dew
Of the sweet clover-blossoms his babyhood knew?

I never set eyes on a clover-field now,
Er fool round a stable, er climb in the mow,
But my childhood comes back jest as clear and as plane
As the smell of the clover I'm sniffin' again;
And I wunder away in a bare-footed dream,
Whare I tangle my toes in the blossoms that gleam
With the dew of the dawn of the morning of love
Ere it wept ore the graves that I'm weepin' above.

And so I love clover – it seems like a part
Of the sacerdest sorrows and joys of my hart;
And wharever it blossoms, oh, thare let me bow
And thank the good God as I'm thankin' Him now;
And I pray to Him still fer the stren'th when I die,
To go out in the clover and tell it good-bye,
And lovin'ly nestle my face in its bloom
While my soul slips away on a breth of purfume.

Us farmers in the country, as the seasons go and come,
Is purty much like other folks, – we're apt to grumble some!
The Spring's too back'ard fer us, er too for'ard – ary one —
We'll jaw about it anyhow, and have our way er none!
The thaw's set in too suddent; er the frost's stayed in the soil
Too long to give the wheat a chance, and crops is bound to spoil!
The weather's eether most too mild, er too outrageous rough,
And altogether too much rain, er not half rain enugh!

Now what I'd like and what you'd like is plane enugh to see:
It's jest to have old Providence drop round on you and me
And ast us what our views is first, regardin' shine er rain,
And post 'em when to shet her off, er let her on again!
And yit I'd ruther, after all – considern other chores
I' got on hands, a-tendin' both to my affares and yours —
I'd ruther miss the blame I'd git, a-rulin' things up thare,
And spend my extry time in praise and gratitude and prayer.

'Ras Wilson, I respect you, 'cause
You're common, like you allus was
Afore you went to town and s'prised
The world by gittin' "reckonized,"
And yit perservin', as I say,
Your common hoss-sense ev'ryway!
And when that name o' yourn occurs
On hand-bills, er in newspapers,
Er letters writ by friends 'at ast
About you, same as in the past,
And neghbors and relations 'low
You're out o' the tall timber now,
And "gittin' thare" about as spry's
The next! – as I say , when my eyes,
Er ears, lights on your name, I mind
The first time 'at I come to find
You – and my Rickollection yells,
Jest jubilunt as old sleigh-bells —
"'Ras Wilson! Say! Hold up! and shake
A paw, fer old acquaintance sake!"
My Rickollection , more'n like,
Hain't overly too apt to strike
The what's-called "cultchurd public eye"
As wisdom of the deepest dye, —
And yit my Rickollection makes
So blame lots fewer bad mistakes,
Regardin' human-natchur' and
The fellers 'at I've shook theyr hand,
Than my best jedgemunt's done, the day
I've met 'em – 'fore I got away, —
'At – Well, 'Ras Wilson, let me grip
Your hand in warmest pardnership!

Dad-burn ye! – Like to jest haul back
A' old flat-hander, jest che-whack!
And take you 'twixt the shoulders, say,
Sometime you're lookin' t'other way! —
Er, maybe whilse you're speakin' to
A whole blame Courthouse-full o' 'thu-
Syastic friends, I'd like to jest
Come in-like and break up the nest
Afore you hatched anuther cheer,
And say: "'Ras, I can't stand hitched here
All night – ner wouldn't ef I could! —
But Little Bethel Neghborhood,
You ust to live at, 's sent some word
Fer you, ef ary chance occurred
To git it to ye, – so ef you
Kin stop, I'm waitin' fer ye to!"

You're common, as I said afore —
You're common, yit oncommon more . —
You allus kindo' 'pear, to me,
What all mankind had ort to be —
Jest natchurl , and the more hurraws
You git, the less you know the cause —
Like as ef God Hisse'f stood by
Where best on earth hain't half knee-high,
And seein' like, and knowin' He
'S the Only Grate Man really,
You're jest content to size your hight
With any feller-man's in sight. —
And even then they's scrubs, like me,
Feels stuck-up, in your company!
Like now: – I want to go with you
Plum out o' town a mile er two
Clean past the Fair-ground whare's some hint
O' pennyrile er peppermint,
And bottom-lands, and timber thick
Enugh to sorto' shade the crick!
I want to see you – want to set
Down somers, whare the grass hain't wet,
And kindo' breathe you, like puore air —
And taste o' your tobacker thare,
And talk and chaw! Talk o' the birds
We've knocked with cross-bows. – Afterwards
Drop, mayby, into some dispute
'Bout "pomgrannies," er cal'mus-root —
And how they growed, and whare ? – on tree
Er vine? – Who's best boy-memory! —
And wasn't it gingsang , insted
O' cal'mus-root, growed like you said? —
Er how to tell a coon-track from
A mussrat's; – er how milksick come —
Er ef cows brung it? – Er why now
We never see no "muley" – cow —
Ner "frizzly" – chicken – ner no "clay-
Bank" mare – ner nothin' thataway! —
And what's come o' the yellow -core
Old wortermelons? – hain't no more. —
Tomattusus, the same – all red -
Uns nowadays – All past joys fled —
Each and all jest gone k-whizz!
Like our days o' childhood is!

Dag-gone it, 'Ras! they hain't no friend,
It 'pears-like, left to comperhend
Sich things as these but you, and see
How dratted sweet they air to me!
But you, 'at's loved 'em allus, and
Kin sort 'em out and understand
'Em, same as the fine books you've read,
And all fine thoughts you've writ, er said,
Er worked out, through long nights o' rain,
And doubts and fears, and hopes, again,
As bright as morning when she broke, —
You know a teardrop from a joke!
And so, 'Ras Wilson, stop and shake
A paw, fer old acquaintance sake!

I tell you what I'd ruther do —
Ef I only had my ruthers, —
I'd ruther work when I wanted to
Than be bossed round by others; —
I'd ruther kindo' git the swing
O' what was needed , first, I jing!
Afore I swet at anything! —
Ef I only had my ruthers; —
In fact I'd aim to be the same
With all men as my brothers;
And they'd all be the same with me —
Ef I only had my ruthers.

I wouldn't likely know it all —
Ef I only had my ruthers; —
I'd know some sense, and some base-ball —
Some old jokes, and – some others:
I'd know some politics , and 'low
Some tarif-speeches same as now,
Then go hear Nye on "Branes and How
To Detect Theyr Presence." T'others ,
That stayed away, I'd let 'em stay —
All my dissentin' brothers
Could chuse as shore a kill er cuore,
Ef I only had my ruthers.